


come light me up

by allegrolines



Category: Infinite (Band)
Genre: Domesticity, Established Relationship, Intimacy, M/M, sexual discovery/exploration
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-31
Updated: 2016-12-31
Packaged: 2018-09-12 23:46:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,684
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9095908
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/allegrolines/pseuds/allegrolines
Summary: “We should get a mirror,” Woohyun says one morning.Howon looks up from his underwear drawer, frowning. There are only rows of neatly folded shirts in front of him, and, as expected, none of them have an explanation for why Woohyun is making suggestions about furniture all of a sudden.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Title from Ariana Grande's “Into You”

“We should get a mirror,” Woohyun says one morning.

Howon looks up from his underwear drawer, frowning. There are only rows of neatly folded shirts in front of him, and, as expected, none of them have an explanation for why Woohyun is making suggestions about furniture all of a sudden.

“Why?” he asks, turning around. “Also—what do you mean ‘we’?”

“Okay, then _you_ should get it, Hoya-ssi,” Woohyun amends, without even missing a beat. He’s still in bed, wrapped in a cocoon of blankets, and has stolen Howon’s pillow. “Don’t you think it’s annoying that there isn’t a decent mirror in the room? Especially when you’re getting dressed?”

“So this is about wanting to check yourself out,” Howon says.

“Not myself,” Woohyun protests. “My clothes.”

Howon walks back to the bed. “I asked why you said ‘we’ because _I_ don’t need another mirror, Woohyunie,” he points out. “There’s already one in the bathroom.”

“Yes, and it’s too small,” Woohyun says right away. “You can only see yourself from the waist up. What do you expect me to do, jump?”

“I’d like to see you do that,” Howon laughs. Woohyun looks unimpressed by his teasing—but also warm and drowsy and comfortable. If Howon didn’t have an early schedule he wouldn’t even hesitate to get back under the covers with him. “What about the one in the studio?” he asks, sitting at Woohyun’s side and tugging the sheets off his face.

“I’m not getting dressed in the _studio_ ,” he replies—way too vehemently, in Howon’s opinion, considering that Woohyun sometimes sleeps on his own desk.

Howon tries to think of something to add. He could remind Woohyun that this isn’t his flat, after all, but it’s not like he is bothered by Woohyun staying over every few nights—or by the amount of Woohyun’s stuff that has started to take up space in his closet, in the living room and the kitchen. It’s not like he doesn’t like it, every time Woohyun uses _we_ and _us_ and _our_ to talk about the apartment. “We could go get one on our next day off,” he finally says.

“Really?” Woohyun’s smile is bright but short lived. “You don’t have to do that, I know this isn’t—”

“It’d be convenient, as you said,” Howon cuts in.

Woohyun looks up at him. “I have the afternoon off next Monday,” he says, tentative but hopeful.

“That could work,” Howon replies, before checking his watch and getting to his feet. “I have to go.”

“Have a good day at work, mister Lead Role,” Woohyun says. The bedding slides off his bare shoulders when he sits upright. “I’ll call you this evening?”

“We’re going to be filming a night scene today,” Howon says. “I’ll call you when I’m done.”

Woohyun tilts his face up towards him, wordlessly. Howon’s heartbeat speeds up. He kisses Woohyun, savoring his little pleased hum. 

“Don’t be late,” Woohyun tells him, pulling away and grinning.

Howon pokes his cheek. “Talk to you tonight.” 

He grabs a jacket and walks out of the room. His duffel bag is ready by the front door; he ties up his shoes, stuffs his phone and keys on the back pockets of his jeans. His phone pings twice while he’s riding the elevator down to the first floor; one text is from his manager, letting him know that the van is already waiting for him at the parking lot. The other is from Woohyun— _i’ll leave food in the fridge so heat it up whenever you get back_. A new message pops up while Howon still has their chat open. His belly swoops when he reads it.

 _i love you_ , it says.

 

***

 

Howon vetoes two of the mirrors Woohyun chooses—and Woohyun makes faces at the one Howon suggests as soon as they get to the store—but they manage to find one that they both like. It’s simple and elegant, big enough to be functional but also discreet enough to fit perfectly in Howon’s room. At the beginning he keeps getting startled by his own reflection, unused as he is to having it there, and it’s the same for Woohyun—Howon catches him flinching a few times after seeing something move out of the corner of his eye, and then bursting into relieved, silly chuckles when he realizes what it was.

As it turns out, it _is_ convenient to have a full-body mirror in the bedroom. Howon ends up using it as much as Woohyun does, getting dressed in front of it every morning while Woohyun watches him from the bed, messy-haired and flushed, his eyes still heavy with sleep. There’s nothing subtle about the way Woohyun looks at him; he’s focused and intent, full of smiles whenever Howon happens to return his stare through the glass. None of them mentions it, but those quiet moments quickly become part of their routine, like texting each other during the day, or ordering tangsooyook for lunch once a week.

The shooting for Howon’s new movie finishes a month later. Actors and staff alike get together afterwards, crowding in a hot pot restaurant in Hongdae after sunset to wrap up weeks of hard work and toast for a successful premiere. Howon goes back to his place just before dawn, stumbling slightly while he brushes his teeth and takes off his clothes. His bed is empty, though the pillow smells like Woohyun. He falls asleep right away.

When he wakes up the sun is high and his stomach is rumbling. He’s thirsty, too, and his head feels a little fuzzy. The underfloor heating is on; warmth curls under the soles of his feet when he goes to the bathroom, first, and then to the kitchen to grab some water. He drinks two glasses, one right after the other; it’s only when he finishes the second that he notices the pot placed on the stove, and the blinking light of the rice cooker.

Woohyun is settled in the living room, typing on his laptop, surrounded by notes scribbled on graph paper, music sheets, and what looks like printed articles. He’s wearing glasses—not the fake ones he used to bring to radio shows and interviews, but the black rimmed prescription glasses he uses while working. 

“You look busy,” Howon says.

“Class assignment,” Woohyun replies. “For music theory. Good afternoon to you, by the way.”

“Hi,” Howon says. “When did you arrive?”

Woohyun closes his computer, gathers up the rest of his stuff and sets it on top of it. “A few hours ago? I didn’t really check the time. Do you want to eat?” he asks, looking up at Howon.

“What did you make?”

“Abalone soup.”

“I didn’t have abalone in the freezer.”

“I got groceries on my way here.”

“You—”

Woohyun grins. “Congratulations on a job well done, Howon-ah.” 

Affection bubbles up in Howon’s chest, to the point that he fears it might choke him. He lowers his head. “I’m hungry,” he says after a moment.

“C’mon, then,” Woohyun says, bumping against Howon’s side when he walks past him. “There’s rice, too. And I’ve brought a jar of dongchimi my mom made for you.”

“Woohyunie—” Howon stops him, wrapping his fingers around Woohyun’s elbow. He reaches out, cups Woohyun’s face between his palms and kisses him, licking into Woohyun’s mouth when he gasps. 

He kisses Woohyun hard and deep, not as slowly or as gently as he should—it’s not a greeting nor a _thank you_ , but rather an _I missed you_ , fast and sharp and urgent. Woohyun falters, then clings to the loose sleeveless shirt Howon slept in, making little noises when Howon’s tongue slides along his. Howon walks him backwards and presses him into the wall, tugging Woohyun’s upper lip between his teeth.

“Howonie.”

Howon breathes into the crook of Woohyun’s neck. “Don’t make a joke about how much I must like the dongchimi,” he pleads, feeling desperate, his control in shreds. “ _Please_.”

Woohyun pushes him away, just enough that Howon can see his face. “Food, first,” he says. “ _Go_ , Howon-ah,” he insists, when Howon doesn’t move.

“And afterwards?” Howon can’t help but ask.

“I’ll still be here.” Woohyun’s eyes don’t waver away from his. “You have the rest of the week off. I’m not going anywhere.”

 

***

 

Fingertips brush down Howon’s chest. Woohyun touches him as if they had been apart for months, even though that wasn’t the case. Howon doesn’t complain; he can’t, not when Woohyun’s attention is exactly what he wants. Everything else fades to the background—the frantic pace of the last couple of weeks, the late nights and early mornings, the bone deep exhaustion of too little sleep, the bad weather. Woohyun’s hands are nimble on Howon’s skin, tugging Howon’s tank top off and his underwear down, leaving briefly to unbutton his own shirt. He pushes Howon onto the bed and across the mattress.

Howon’s too busy to notice the weird angle they are lying at—he _has_ to kiss Woohyun back, after all; has to slide his hands down Woohyun’s sides and grab him by the hips, has to pull Woohyun down harder against his body, right on the good side of rough. Woohyun’s eyes gleam. His smile is lopsided and brilliant. Howon rolls them over, drawing a surprised peal of laughter out of him. Woohyun’s thighs fall open around his waist—

And then Howon glances up and sees his own face staring back at him.

Shock comes first, followed by understanding. It’s the mirror—of course it is the mirror, Howon thinks, sliding a hand between Woohyun’s legs. He’s grown so used to it that it has become just another piece of furniture in his flat, something he doesn’t even notice anymore unless he’s using it. Howon blinks. He has a clear view of both their reflections now, naked and wrapped in each other—Woohyun’s dark hair against the pale blue of the sheets, the way his own back moves. Woohyun shifts under him, pushing up into his hand.

“Lube,” he says. “Where—?”

“I’ll grab it,” Howon says, cutting him off with a kiss. “One second.”

He crawls up the mattress to pull the drawer of his bedside table open and feel for the small bottle inside. When he turns around Woohyun has sat up and is looking at him, leaning back on his hands. Howon’s breath catches. He moves to straddle Woohyun again, knowing well enough what he’ll see—he’s so aware of the mirror in the corner of the room now that his skin prickles. Even though he keeps his eyes on Woohyun’s face he can still sense the shape of his own movements, reflected just ahead of him, can picture how they look, together on his— _their_ —bed. He bends forward and kisses the mole on Woohyun’s forehead, making him chuckle softly.

“Do you want—?” Woohyun starts.

Howon shakes his head. “Let me,” he says.

“Oh?” Woohyun falls back into the bed, a little grin pulling up one corner of his mouth. His expression stutters when Howon takes hold of his cock and slicks it up, stroking it slowly. “You have a plan?”

“Maybe,” Howon says, smiling back at him. He lets go of Woohyun, braces one hand by his side, and reaches behind himself with the other.

It’s easy to let his mind go blank like that, pinned between the slide of his own fingers and the feeling of Woohyun’s, petting his sides and the top of his thighs. Howon takes a deep breath, exhales slowly. He focuses on the tightness in his throat, the heat pooling in his gut. Everything narrows down to _here_ and _now_ , until the moment when he finally lines them up, and starts to sink down on Woohyun, bit by bit.

“Howon-ah, I—” Woohyun whimpers at the first careful roll of Howon’s hips. “Oh.”

The stretch and pressure of it are familiar; the fullness, too. Howon sets the pace, unrushed and easy. Woohyun thrusts up into him, following his rhythm, looking at Howon through his lashes, his lips bitten and swollen. His mouth opens, closes, opens again, like he’s trying to speak but isn’t able to. He’s flushed all over, red spreading down his neck, on his shoulders and chest. His nails leave little crescent-shaped marks on Howon’s skin. Howon groans, bearing his weight down on Woohyun—then there’s a flicker on the edge of his vision, and he can’t help but look up.

As a dancer, Howon has spent countless hours practicing in front of mirrors, learning about lines and curves, searching for the best way to match the music with his gestures and translate his emotions into movement. Dancing isn’t just about what feels right, but about what looks best, too. Precision and sharpness. Smooth, clean footwork. Seven people moving as one. Howon knows his job relies on how the audience sees him—and them, as a group. He’s been monitoring their rehearsals and performances for years, scrutinizing every tiny detail.

This is a completely different thing, though.

It’s not that he gets distracted—he can’t ignore the thick weight of Woohyun’s cock, or the way Woohyun bucks under him. But his eyes keep wandering away, stealing glances at their reflections. Howon moves faster—and there’s the answering snap of his hips in the mirror. Woohyun reaches up to run one hand up Howon’s belly, wraps the other around the head of Howon’s cock—and Howon gets to feel Woohyun’s touch on his skin while he’s also watching it happen from afar. He’s too lust-drunk and overwhelmed to put his thoughts in order—he can’t tell why, exactly, but there’s something about being able to see themselves like this that makes him all the more conscious of his own body, of Woohyun, of the way they are moving together. Everything is sharper, double, _more_.

The tension unravels and he comes, muffling a cry against Woohyun’s chest.

Woohyun combs his fingers through Howon’s hair, soft and tender. Howon pants, his body wrung out and shaky. His thighs burn. He feels spent and sore and _good_ , contentment settling deep into his muscles. Woohyun holds his face and pushes his bangs back. His thumb caresses Howon’s jawline.

“Have you—?” Howon’s voice sounds weird to his own ears, like the shape of the words isn’t quite right. He rolls off Woohyun, settling by his side. “Woohyunie?”

“Yeah,” Woohyun says hoarsely. He’s grinning, Howon realizes through the haze clouding his own head; his face is awash in pure delight. “ _Yeah_. Fuck.”

Laughter bursts out of Howon. He holds onto Woohyun’s wrist. “Good.”

Woohyun stays silent, catching his breath next to Howon. “Those were some long weeks, right?” he says after a while.

Howon hums. “Yeah. But it was a good experience,” he replies.

“I can imagine,” Woohyun says. He stares at Howon, folding one arm under his head to use it as a pillow. “A big role like that must’ve been demanding. I know you worked hard, though.”

“I hope it was enough.”

“I know it was,” Woohyun says, full of conviction. He smirks then, a little mischievously. “Welcome back, Howon-ah,” he announces. “I was meant to give you a present, not the other way around.”

Howon kicks him lightly in the shin. “Stop that.” He closes his eyes, breathing in the smell of the fabric softener underneath the salty tang of sweat and come. One of them will have to change the sheets before they go to sleep, he thinks. “I’m gonna go get something to drink,” he says, not moving at all.

“I’ll do that,” Woohyun tells him, kissing his temple. He pats Howon’s butt. “Take it easy.”

Howon watches him get out of bed and pick up a shirt from the floor. The hair at the back of Woohyun’s head is all sticking up in tufts, like the ruffled feathers of a bird. He pauses on his way to the door—for a moment it looks like he’s glancing at something at his right, but then he leaves without looking back again.

 

***

 

“Did the interview go well?” Woohyun asks, all the way from the bedroom.

“It was fine,” Howon replies, turning to speak over his shoulder while he finishes loading the dishwasher. “I liked yesterday’s better, though.”

“How so?”

Howon looks around; Woohyun had wiped the counters before going to take a work call, and everything else has been cleaned and tidied up. “We got to talk more in depth about the actual movie and the filming yesterday,” he says. “Today was more about—standard questions and answers for the press, I guess.”

“Did they ask you about your ideal type again? That’s a standard question.”

“Yes,” Howon says back, even though they didn’t. He follows Woohyun’s voice to his own room. “I told them nerds were my ideal type,” he adds, smiling when he walks in and Woohyun beams at him. Unexpectedly, he’s still wearing his sweater and jeans instead of pajamas. “You haven’t changed yet,” Howon points out.

“Well.” Woohyun blushes. “I was waiting for you.”

“I’m here now.”

“Yes.” He stays where he is, sitting on the bed, not quite meeting Howon’s eyes.

“Something wrong? You look—”

“Tired?”

“—hesitant,” Howon says.

Woohyun makes a face, something between a frown and a grimace. “I’ve been wondering—” He swallows. “That night, a few weeks ago. You were looking at the mirror. Right?”

“How—?” Howon bites the inside of his cheek. Of course Woohyun noticed. “Yes.”

“That was a first,” Woohyun says. “I mean—I thought about it, afterwards, and we’ve made out in practice rooms many times. But I hadn’t seen you react like that before.”

A shiver runs down Howon’s back. He can just picture it now—being pushed against the wall after a rehearsal, and then turning his head to the side and seeing their reflections over Woohyun’s shoulder. The nape of his neck goes hot. “I wasn’t—”

“Oh,” Woohyun breathes. “You didn’t—”

“—I wasn’t paying attention to the mirror those times,” Howon finishes.

Woohyun stays silent for a long while. “There’s something I want to do,” he finally says. He sounds dubious, careful. “With you—and _for_ you,” he adds. He leans forward, closer to Howon, glancing down at his mouth. “If you want.”

Their lips brush; Howon inhales sharply. “Yes,” he says.

Woohyun’s hands are gentle but firm on him, guiding Howon onto the bed, tugging his shirt and sweatpants off, pulling on him until Howon is kneeling on the mattress, facing away from the headboard. His view of both of them is even better today. Woohyun holds him from behind, pressed against his back, one arm looped around his waist. It doesn’t feel exactly like the first time—Howon isn’t caught in the heat of the moment now—but there is that same sense of acute awareness again. Woohyun drops light kisses along his shoulders, on the knob at the top of his spine, up the side of his neck.

“Is this okay?” he murmurs, sucking a faint mark below Howon’s ear.

Howon relaxes back into him. His skin feels electrified, buzzing with anticipation. “Go on,” he replies.

Time seems to stretch, slowing down to a trickle of seconds. Woohyun keeps his mouth on Howon’s neck, using his free hand to touch him. It’s unhurried, deliberate; he brings it up to Howon’s face first, then runs it down his throat, dragging his fingertips over Howon’s Adam’s apple before continuing to move downwards. Howon follows his path, shivering when Woohyun grazes his nipples and pets his abs. Their eyes meet in the mirror. Woohyun adjusts his grip; he splays his left hand on Howon’s chest to steady him, then curls the other around Howon’s half-hard cock.

His grip is loose, almost delicate, slippery and frictionless thanks to the lube. Woohyun twists his wrist on the upstroke, jerking Howon off in slow pulls. The build up hits Howon in waves, relentlessly, until he can’t tell how long Woohyun has been touching him—until he’s throbbing in Woohyun’s hold, his hips twitching forward every time Woohyun flicks his thumb against the underside of his cock. He feels raw, oversensitive, caught in the feedback loop of their reflections and Woohyun’s body, hot and solid against his.

“Open your eyes,” Woohyun whispers. “You wanted to look, right? Open your eyes, Howon-ah.”

“I have them open,” he protests, though his lids keep dropping, blurring his vision.

“D’you see how good you look?” Woohyun keeps stroking him at the same languid pace, as precise as a metronome.

“Hyunnie—”

“I love that you let me touch you like this.”

Howon has no air left to reply, but Woohyun doesn’t seem to mind. He keeps talking, his voice barely louder than a sigh, drawing out Howon’s pleasure for as long as he can. Sweat rolls down Howon’s face—or maybe tears, he can’t tell which anymore. Woohyun is flushed too, his eyes glinting dark in the mirror. He kisses words into Howon’s skin; _strong_ and _beautiful_ and _sweet_ and _want_ and _love_. Howon tries to keep staring, but his head falls forward.

“ _Look_ ,” Woohyun repeats, sliding his lips up Howon’s throat and catching his earlobe between his teeth.

Howon glances up just in time to see himself come, dripping between Woohyun’s fingers and down his own thighs. It’s a slow, intense orgasm—the heat of it tugs at his gut and makes his head spin.

Woohyun waits for him to get his breath back. He clings to Howon, his left hand still cupped over the drumroll of Howon’s heartbeat. He’s panting, shaking like he’s about to fall to pieces, with none of the controlled calm he appeared to have until just a moment ago. “Please,” he says. “Can I—?”

Somehow, Howon manages to ask, “What d’you want?”

“Anything,” Woohyun replies, rushed and broken; a moment later, he adds, “Your thighs?”

“Woohyunie,” Howon says, smiling fondly even though Woohyun can’t see him—he has dropped his forehead against Howon’s back, hiding his face between his shoulder blades. “Of course.”

Both of them stay on the same spot, kneeling on the bed. The position isn’t the best—their legs get in the way, and Woohyun doesn’t have a lot of room to move freely. Still, he gets as close to Howon as possible, pulling them flush together. His cock bumps against Howon’s ass; he guides it between Howon’s legs and rolls his hips, haltingly at first, then picking up the rhythm once he figures out a good angle. He holds onto Howon’s sides, tightening and untightening his grip in time with his thrusts.

“Hey, you aren’t gonna look? Now it’s your turn, y’know?” Howon asks, light and teasing; Woohyun sobs, shaking his head. Howon covers Woohyun’s hands with his, squeezing them. He stares into the mirror. “I can only see some of your hair over my shoulder,” he explains, wavering when Woohyun’s teeth scrape his skin. “And also these, obviously,” he adds, lacing his fingers through Woohyun’s. “I know you won’t last much longer,” Howon says. “I can feel that, too.”

He isn’t wrong—Woohyun comes with a choked off moan after a few stuttering thrusts, hugging him from behind. They keep holding onto each other afterwards, swaying a little every time they breathe. Woohyun is like a heater at Howon’s back, a blanket of warmth and affection, but even so Howon starts to feel the chill on his front, raising goosebumps on his arms. His thighs are tacky; they stick to each other when he tries to ease his weight off his knees.

“I really need a shower,” Howon says, lying down on his side and pulling Woohyun with him.

“I don’t think I can walk just now,” Woohyun says. “Start without me? I’ll catch up with you in a minute.”

Howon turns around. “You seem in a hurry to get the bed all for yourself.”

“You got me there,” Woohyun replies, slurring a little, his cheeks still pink. “I only come here for your bed.”

“And my couch.”

“And the fancy steamer pot your mom gave you for your last birthday.”

“Speaking of the bed, we need to change the sheets,” Howon says, propping himself up on one elbow and ruffling Woohyun’s hair. “Again.”

“I can deal with that,” Woohyun tells him. “Go take a shower. Do you wanna go for a drive later?”

“Isn’t it snowing again?” Howon says. He frowns. “Also—you really don’t have to remake the bed, Woohyunie. I’ll do it.”

“It’s just drizzling,” Woohyun replies. “But we could stay in the car.”

Howon swings his legs over the edge of the mattress, raising to his feet. “Or we could stay here and watch a movie—”

“I guess we could.”

“There’s something I want you to listen to, anyway.” He looks down at Woohyun, sprawled on the duvet, naked and messy and perfect, as far as Howon is concerned.

Woohyun stares right back at him, grinning widely. “Sounds like a plan.”

 

***

 

The pale light of the morning filters past Howon’s curtains. He fumbles with his tie in front of the mirror, trying to finish getting ready before he needs to leave for a photoshoot and another interview, the last one before his movie’s premiere. It’s almost too dark to see, but he doesn’t want to wake Woohyun up—and there’s also the fact that he can’t help blushing every time he happens to catch his own eyes, the previous evening still fresh in his mind.

“Wear the navy tie, it looks better with that shirt.”

Woohyun’s voice is a rough, sleepy mumble, but the smile on his lips is small and pleased—so pleased it could be called smug, Howon thinks. He’s staring at Howon just like any other day, curled up in a ball around his pillow.

“Isn’t it too early for you to be up?” Howon asks, looking for the tie Woohyun mentioned.

“I wanted to wish you a good day,” Woohyun replies around a yawn. “Today’s press thing is pretty big, right?”

“I’ve done press conferences before.”

“Not on your own,” Woohyun points out.

“Is that supposed to cheer me up, Woohyun-ah?”

“What I mean,” Woohyun continues, enunciating every syllable as crisply as he can manage, “is that even if you’re nervous, you’ll do great. You always do.”

Howon exchanges ties; he slips into his blazer, pulling at the lapels so it sits just right on his shoulders, and buttons it up. “Thank you,” he says. He considers his reflection for a moment, hesitating. But he has a bruise in the shape of Woohyun’s mouth just behind his left shoulder, and he wants to acknowledge what they did in some way. He takes a deep breath, then adds, “You’ve ruined mirrors for me, so. Congratulations.”

“Oh?” Howon can hear Woohyun perk up. “All mirrors or just that one? What about the one in the studio?”

“Didn’t you complain about my studio a while ago?

“I complained about getting dressed there, Howon-ah. I didn’t say anything about _undressing_.”

“You’re a menace,” Howon says fondly, draping a coat over his arm. “Okay—I’m meeting Sungjong and Dongwoo-hyung later, but I’ll see you afterwards?”

“Hey, Howonie,” Woohyun calls him, sitting up. “I’m glad it turned out right,” he says, much softer than before. “Yesterday, I mean. So—Well. I just, I want—” 

“Yes?”

Woohyun looks away. “I hope it goes well today.”

 _I want to make you happy_ , Howon hears between Woohyun’s faltering words. His chest aches. _Me too_ , he thinks. “I’d like to go over the song I showed you last night,” he says.

“I could go back to my flat and pack my laptop and some extra clothes,” Woohyun replies. “So we could spend the weekend together.”

They’ll have to talk about Woohyun fitting into Howon’s place like he belongs there, eventually—maybe make it into something more solid and permanent, after years of shared dorms and separate apartments. _Soon_ , Howon thinks. For now he’s still happy to take things as they come, one day at a time. “Any excuse is good enough for you, right? You’ll do anything to keep romancing my steamer.”

“What can I say?” Woohyun laughs. “I really love it here.”

**Author's Note:**

> This was going to be smutty and to the point, but then I grew more and more enthusiastic about their relationship in a domestic context, and Howon's headspace and self-perception. I hope you enjoy it :) 
> 
> Thanks for reading!


End file.
